Running On Empty
by supernaturaldh
Summary: Although Dean is back from hell, he still can't seem to keep Sammy safe. Vengeful hunters take his little brother and bury him alive. Will Dean find him in time? A limp Sam, Big brother Dean story.
1. Chapter 1

**RUNNING ON EMPTY **

**By supernaturaldh**

**Summary: ** Now that Dean was back from the dead, no hunters would get his little brother. Of course, that was wishful thinking on his part.

**Set in Season 3.** Hurt Sam, Big Brother Dean.

**Beta: Kokoda2007 –** Please don't blame my awesome beta, all errors are my own.

**Chapter 1**

**Exhaustion**

Dean shifted in the front seat of the Impala; his stiff body moving uncomfortably against the well worn leather. The even rhythm of the wipers lulled him toward sleep and he blinked his bloodshot eyes. He knew he needed to find a motel room, and soon; his bleary head was having a hard time keeping his tired lids aware. He glanced across the bench seat toward his little brother.

Sam's head leaned awkwardly against the passenger door; fatigue written all over his pale face. His long gangly legs were curled awkwardly against the dash, his forehead resting heavily against the window, as drool slowly dribbled down his chin. _Sam was definitely thinner since big brother's time in hell._

Dean watched as his brother's warm breath heaved out silently against the window, and caused condensation to form lightly against the glass. The older brother smiled. _He never thought he would get see his kid brother sleeping in the Impala again. _ He blinked back the moisture that suddenly accumulated against his burning lids, and focused on the windshield and the winding rode in front of them. _He was confident he would see a neon vacancy sign soon. _

The older brother let his tired mind recall the last week. The hunt that had been grueling; the Zippahog evading them at every turn. The creature had taken two more victims while they were researching to extinguish it, giving both brothers a maniac drive to find the ugly mother. To make matters worse, the local cops and forestry officers had been roaming the same woods, making their quest to kill the creature all the more difficult.

Dean sighed wearily.

He would have given up, let the idiots have at it, but Sam was adamant, they needed finish the job. So, they had not relented, the creature would not kill again; not on their watch. Sleeping very little, only stopping for naps and brief breaks for food, they spent a week in one endless loop of scouting, stalking, hiding, and waiting.

Eventually, they found and killed the creature before it had claimed another victim, unfortunately, the bumbling officers had made it impossible for them to return to their motel, instead, they had to hightail it out of the area. Three hours and 223 miles later, the Impala was humming down the highway carrying two damp, cold, and hungry hunters as they came down from adrenaline highs.

Dean blinked hard, just trying to keep his eyes open was growing difficult. He sighed and squinted into the night, the white line whizzing by the windshield. He realized now, it had been too soon after his trip to hell and subsequent return for both he and Sam. The hunt had been overwhelming to them both. Their emotions still wound tightly from his death, they were wrought with memories, and struggled just to deal.

He sucked in some air, and glanced at his little brother. He couldn't bring himself to talk about what he could recall from his time in hell; and Sam had shied away from any conversations about how he spent the last four months on his own. While they both were extremely happy that they were back together, the interaction between them had become silent looks and trivial conversations about nothing.

-o-

Dean's eyes glared to the rearview mirror, two bright headlights riding tight against the Impala's bumper.

"What the hell," he muttered, "freak in' go around me."

He squinted and flipped the mirror up, hoping it would diminish the bright glow that was now making his head hurt.

The vehicle rumbled along behind him for several minutes; his tired mind trying to comprehend why this guy would not get off his ass. _He was too tired for this shit._

He blinked as he caught sight of a bright Motel sign up ahead on the right hand side of the road. _This guy was really starting to piss him off. _ He flipped on his blinker and hoped the dude would back off and give him a little space. _No such luck. _

Dean's foot pushed firmly on the brake, his right arm locking quickly across his little brother's sleeping form. He hastily swung the Impala into the motel parking lot, gravel flinging wildly with the abrupt turn. The tires squealing to a sudden halt. _That'll show you, you son of a bitch. _

He glanced back to the road, taking in the large Ford truck that slowed, and then suddenly sped back up. He shook his head in disgust as the truck fled down the highway, two red tail lights disappearing into the night.

"Jerk", Dean muttered, his eyes coming back rest on Sam. His little brother was still sound asleep, body leaning heavily against his arm; oblivious to what was going on around them.

Dean pushed the kid gently back against the worn leather, and eyed him silently. Sam shuffled lightly against the seat, and then relaxed back to oblivion. The older hunter smiled and eased himself from the driver's seat, quickly locking the door, he half stumbled toward the registration office, one goal in mind; 24 hours of much needed rest.

-o-

The dark blue Ford truck barreled down the highway, away from the black Impala. The two hunters inside grinned widely.

"Found um." Brain snorted, and then gave a sudden chuckle.

"Yep…that was too easy." Daryl voiced, as he pulled the Ford to the side of the dark road and let the engine idle, cocky smirk adorning his face.

-o-

Brain Greenway had been a hunter for the last 26 years. He had hunted with John Winchester once, a long time ago. The Winchester man had been with the group of hunters that left him for dead in a cemetery outside of South Bend, Indiana. Winchester hadn't agreed with his means to eliminate the ghost, they had argued, and John's stupid plan had gotten him hurt; of that much he was sure. When he awoke, two days later, he was in the hospital, no idea how he had gotten there, or where the other hunters had gone. He had wanted to repay Winchester for a long time, and now, since he couldn't take it out of a dead man's hide, his son's would have to do.

Daryl Leone was new to hunting, just recently out of jail. He had hooked up with Brain Greenway when he went looking for Gordon Walker. He'd been a cell mate of Walker's during his time in the Indiana State Penitentiary, so he had heard all about hunting and Sam Winchester on a daily basis. While he thought Gordan was sometimes a real nut case, the story he wove about demons, deals, and the devils gate had been intriguing. Once he was released from jail, he had looked up Gordon, finding out from his fellow hunters that he had been killed a while back. The story had it that the Winchester brother's had something to do with his friend's demise, but more importantly, it was said the Dean Winchester had risen from the dead. Both he and Brian were sure his younger brother had something to do with that occurrence. The belief that Sam Winchester was pure evil pushed them to continue Gordon's fight.

They had followed the brother's to the little Podunk town in east Tennessee, swathed in the woods of the Smoky Mountains. They had watched from a distance as the brother's went after the creature that had been killing innocents for the last month. _The Winchester's were good; they had to give them that._

They were just lucky they had found the brother's at all. Hearing they were big friend of Bobby Singer's, they had watched his salvage yard from afar. The anticipation at finishing what Gordon had started had sat anxiously on them both. They were giddy with anticipation, but had not wanted Singer to get involved. So they had waited for the brother's to leave his place, dark desires setting tightly in their guts. They had one mission, and they were determined it was to be accomplished. They would kill Sam Winchester.

-o-

6


	2. Chapter 2

**RUNNING ON EMPTY **

**By supernaturaldh**

**Beta: Kokoda2007 – The best thing to ever happen to my stories. **

**Chapter 2**

**Taken **

Sam vaguely heard the passenger door creak open, his body tumbling to the side with the motion, before a familiar hand gripped tightly against his shoulder and nudged him back upright. He gasped; his eyelids darting open, confusion marring at his face, as he grappled with his befuddled thoughts.

"Dean?" he wheezed out in a low whisper.

The older hunter's hand held firmly to his brother's shoulder, jade green eyes fixed intently on Sam's anxious face.

"Sammy, hey, it's okay. It's me…I'm right here." Dean offered in a reassuring tone, gentle security resonating with his words. "We're at a motel, let's get you inside."

Sam nodded slowly; recognition slowly easing across his features. His sleep riddled thoughts rallied back together, his breath coming back under control. _His brother was really here._ He turned his tired body slowly around in the front seat, long legs unfolding out from under the dash. His fingers grasped at the doorframe as he pushed to stand on wobbly limbs.

Dean's reassuring hand patted his brother's shoulder as he soaked in Sam's calming face.

Sam blinked owlishly eyes at his brother. _Dean was real._

"Com'on sleepin' beauty, I already got the bags."

Dean released his grip on Sam and turned, moving slowly toward their motel room. Sam fell in silently behind his brother, sluggish footfalls dragging up the rear.

-o-

Sam had spent four long months without Dean, struggling daily to find a way to bring his brother back from hell. In the end, he had done nothing, and was stunned the day Dean showed up 'alive' at Bobby's house. He still struggled with the memories, the crossroad deal; the hellhounds, his brother dying in his arms. In sleep his dreams replayed it over and over, a movie without end. His mind seemingly having a hard time comprehending that his big brother was now alive. Bobby reassured him, advising it was understandable – he had been through a lot, but Sam just wanted to move forward, wanted the overwhelming feelings and unrealistic fears to go away.

-o-

Dean's memories of hell were hazy; his time spent there a nightmare he'd yet to fully grasp. He had flashes of fleeting moments, of pain, and grief, and fear; but he couldn't seem to hang on to any of them as they wavered just beyond his reach. Bobby said his wounds had healed completely, and that fact made them all the more perplexed. He didn't know how or why, and really, he didn't care; he was back with Sammy, and that was all that really mattered.

-o-

The Ford truck eased slowly into the farthest parking spot at the Old Forge Motel, both men smiled as they stared at the sleek black Impala parked at the far end of the lot.

"This is just too freakin' easy." Brian said, curiously looking over at his friend.

"Yeah, it's like they are kind of out of it, not paying attention or something." Daryl muttered, as he pushed open the driver's door and moved slowly toward their motel room.

"Oh, but they will be." The older hunter quipped. "They will be."

-o-

Dean awoke suddenly, a scream choked tightly in his throat. He jolted upright in bed, eyes blinking at the brilliance; the sunlight streaming brightly through the threadbare curtains. _It was a dream, a dream…it wasn't real. _

He sucked in some air, and swiped his shaky hand across his damp face, tugging his fingers nervously through his cropped hair. _A dream, not real._

He let his eyes glance across to his sleeping sibling as he stumbled from the bed, making his way toward the bathroom, he gently closed the door. He slid gradually downward, his butt meeting the cold tile as his feet pushed out in front of him. His weary head thudded lightly back against the wood as he sighed shakily. W_hat the… Hell? _ He huffed to himself. _That probably was hell._ He willed his breathing to slow down, his lungs to pull in more oxygen. _Suck it up Winchester, it's done and over. _ He pushed himself upward again; fingers gripping at the porcelain sink tightly. He stood, his pale face gazing at the tired man in the mirror. _He still looked the same._ He shook the residual dream from his head and reached over to turn on the shower. He shimmed out of his boxers and tee shirt and eased his overwrought body past the plastic curtain. He adjusted the spray and let the hot water cascade leisurely against his skin. The stream was comforting, as it ran freely down his tense muscles, messaging his weary limbs. He relished the feeling, as it washed away the anxiety from his uneasy sleep. _Just a dream…that was all. _

-o-

The steam wafted from the bathroom door as Dean stepped back into the room, his Winchester mask now firmly back in place. _He had to keep his game face on for Sam. _ He grinned as he looked at his still sleeping little brother.

"Rise and shine, Sammy," he chortled, "rise and shine."

Sam's tired eyes opened to mere slits, hazel barely peaking out from under heavy lids.

"Tired," the weary young hunter whispered.

"Well, Its after 11:00, I'm hungry." Dean offered up as he shimmed into his blue jeans and yanked a navy blue tee shirt over his damp head.

"Sleep," Sam mumbled.

Dean rolled his eyes as he shoved his socked feet into his boots. "Okay sleepy head, I'll go get breakfast."

"Humph," Sam grunted, his eyes falling slowly closed, his breath evening back out in oblivion.

Dean yanked up his car keys from the table, and shuffled to the door. "I'll be back in a few." He grinned and shook his head; his little brother was already snoring.

He eased the door quietly closed as his boots scuffed on the concrete sidewalk, keys jingling in his hand. He glanced around the parking lot; his eyes catching on the only other vehicle within sight. _That Ford truck looks vaguely familiar? _ He struggled with the memory, momentarily shrugging it off. He moved swiftly to the Impala, keyed the door and eagerly revved her up. As he pulled out of the parking lot, he gave the the truck one last glance, eyes looking intently at the license plate. _Nebraska?_

A horn suddenly blared to his left, and Dean stomped harshly on the brake causing the car to stop abruptly. He rolled his eyes at the craggily old man in the rusty Chevy Nova that rolled slowly down the road. He snickered, then, pulled hastily onto the highway, just happy he was going the opposite direction. With the window rolled down, and the wind whipping warmly across his face, he smiled, one mantra bouncing around his head; coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee.

-o-

Sam awoke suddenly, frantic eyes blinking wildly at the face above his own.

"Dean?"

He struggled futilely against the body that was straddled atop him, the hands that were gripping him tightly at the shoulders, boney fingers holding him taunt against the bed. _Dean? Where was Dean? _ He blinked sluggishly, confusion still obvious in his sleep laden lids. Slowly, his struggles fell away as he stared wide eyed up at the dark haired man above him.

"Well, look who woke up. You were tired man; just let us waltz right in here." A gruff voice said cockily from beside the bed as the face above him laughed.

"Who…what…where's Dean?" Sam's stunned voice graveled out.

His eyes darted from the young dark headed man above him to see the older man glaring hostilely from the chair. He frantically moved his arms, legs kicking out in an attempt to throw the younger man off.

"Damn, Greenway, hurry it up." Daryl Leone yelped, legs straddling Sam's mid section, hands struggling to hold the youngest Winchester firmly to the bed.

"You son of a bitch." Sam yelled as he jerked futilely, body pinned tightly beneath the man's bulk.

The grip on Sam's left arm tightened, as another hand harshly grabbed his wrist. The older man leered smugly as he stretched Sam's arm out tautly against the sheet. His fingers digging painfully into Sam flesh.

Sam looked wide eyed at him, his face darting to the instrument in the man's hand. He whimpered lightly, eyes pleading for this to stop.

The older hunter just grinned wickedly down at the young Winchester's face.

"Here you go…" Brian Greenway snarled.

Sam barely felt the needle as it pricked against his skin; the warmth of the liquid pulsating quickly through his veins. He jerked his arm away, as the hold against it lapsed, but it was too late. His head throbbed lightly as he glared up at the men.

His vision immediately wavered, and he sucked in a gasp of air, his heart was suddenly thudding loudly in his ears as he struggled to stay focused.

"De...De…a…n." Sam whispered weakly.

The darkness slowly encroached Sam's vision as the figures above him faded in and out. He felt the pressure release as the bonds that held him disappeared. He flailed his shaky arms against the mattress and pushed himself away. He felt his body tumble, his long limbs thudding to the floor. He vaguely heard laughter as it danced around his ears, but he could no longer focus, his heavy eyelids slowly falling closed.

-o-

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	3. Chapter 3

**RUNNING ON EMPTY **

**By supernaturaldh**

**Beta: The Awesome Kokoda 2007- she rocks!**

**Chapter 3**

**Buried Fears **

Dean's fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel as the sounds of AC/DC blared through out the car. He glanced over at the take out bag on the passenger seat, his mouth watering in anticipation. _Maybe he would just help Sam eat some of his breakfast._ Sighing, he thought better of it, Sam needed all the food he could get right now; the kid was way to thin for his liking. Besides, he had already finished off two sausage egg and cheese biscuits himself, and needed to watch his waist. He smiled to himself. _He was back, he would fatten Sam up in no time._

The Impala made its way into the gravel motel parking lot, Dean easing lightly off of the gas as his eyes glared at the dark blue Ford truck, parked haphazardly to the left of the motel room. He could vaguely see two figures behind the darkened windows, but it was impossible to see actual faces with the subtle black tint. He watched as the young driver ran hastily around the truck, smiling wildly over at Dean before he hopped into the cab and gunned it for all it was worth. The tires squealed and the truck bounded out of the parking lot in a cloud of dust and gravel. Dean shook his head. _Man, those guys are in a hurry._ He flung the car into park, yanked up the take out bag and made his way back to Sam.

His hand reached out to clasp the motel doorknob, when his eyes noticed the door was slightly ajar. The takeout bag fell unceremoniously to the concrete sidewalk as his agile fingers whipped around to tug out his hand gun. He moved immediately into full hunter mode.

"Sam", he whispered, as he nudged the red door open with the barrel of his handgun, eyes scanning the area.

Sam's bed was a mess; blankets cascaded down against the floor, pillows tossed across the room.

Dean's heart cinched in his chest, "SAMMY," he yelled urgently.

His hand pushed open the bathroom door, praying to whatever God was listening that his little brother was somewhere in the room.

"Shit," his handgun fell to the wayside as his eyes stared back over the room one more time, a shiny glint catching his attention. He took two large steps and reached down to the dirty carpet, his face displaying a heap of stunned confusion as his fingers yanked the item up, his eyes staring at in astonishment. _A needle…what the hell?_

"Oh God," he whispered. His head a whirl of abrupt thoughts; _No Sam, Needle, Ford truck, two people… two people in the cab._

"Oh God," he murmured.

He twisted frantically on his boots, his feet moving before his mind even comprehended the situation in its entirety. He ran, body sliding hard against the Impala's metal frame. His fingers struggled to open up the latch, as he slid quickly against the leather seat. His hands shook as he hastily stabbed the car key into the ignition, and roared his baby to life.

_Sam, Sammy…Oh God, somebody took Sammy. But who, Gordon was dead._

He struggled to pull in a gulp of air, attempted to steady his out of control nerves._ Okay, get it together. Sam needs you to get it together. Demon? No, Sulphur. No, No, truck, dark blue truck…men, hunters? How did this happen?_

"Damn it," Dean's hand slammed firmly against the steering wheel, anger pulsing through his veins. He was livid with himself, the situation, and the men that had somehow gotten past him, and grabbed his little brother.

The Impala sped down the highway, Dean flooring the car in the last known direction he saw the Ford truck travel. His eyes were like hard steel as they scanned past the windshield. His hands shook visibly against the steering wheel, as anxiety gripped him to his very core.

"Please God, if you're up there; please let me find my brother." He whispered. _I can't loose him now_ .

Dean's thoughts ran ramped; he had just gotten back to Sammy, his life totally changed from events in hell he that he still could not remember. Sam had been through so much, having lived four long months without him. His little brother needed him, needed to get past the time he'd been without his older brother, needed to move forward. And Dean, he needed to be with his brother, needed to take care of Sam.

-o-

Sam's head throbbed, his limbs felt too heavy to lift. His eyelids fluttered briefly open then drifted closed again, it took too much effort to wake up, his thoughts muddled and confused. G_od, his head hurt. He felt like he was overly medicated. _ He sat silently; vaguely aware he was awake, but too out of it to care. Slowly, he blinked open bleary lids, shuffling minutely, attempting to move his cramped muscles, to ease the ache that was coursing through his stiffed up limbs. He was sitting prone, head leaning against something solid. He sucked in a sharp intake of dry air, his tongue sitting thickly to the roof of his mouth. He moved his hands up, and attempted to shift himself around. He immediately felt confined, his knees curled up against his chest, his arms tucked tightly in against his sides. He wiggled slightly, tugging his hand up to rest against his face. _Why was it so dark? _ He could feel his hand, but he couldn't see it. He forced his eyes to stay open, as he peered into the dark, eyes straining to see anything. He could hear his own breath blow out in a mass of stagnant air. He struggled against the confines that suddenly seemed to close in around him. His body shivered as he realized he was only able to move a couple of inches. _He was sitting inside something. _ He moved his hands up to thump above him. His hands fumbled along the sides, and sudden reality made him gasp for air. _He was in a box, curled up in a box. _ His chest heaved. His hands flailed, as a low scream escaped from his lips.

"Deeeaaaannnn," the sound reverberated around him, and slammed harshly back into his eardrums, making his head hurt even more.

His hands flailed around anxiously, pushing against the boards around him. He sucked in some stale air, his fingers falling to rest against something oblong; he grabbed it up shakily, wishing he could see what it was. His fingers felt it gradually, realizing suddenly that it was a pen light; he moved his thumb down and pressed the switch, the bright light assaulting his senses. He closed his eyes. He blinked slowly, squinted, then tugged open his lids; his pupils slowly adjusting to the dim light. He could see the confines that held him and he shuddered. _He was sitting in a wooden box. _ He could hear his heart beat increase as it thudded loudly in his ears. Reality soaked into his bones, and fear rolled over him like a giant wave. _Why was he in a box, in his sleep pants and tee shirt, without his shoes? Where was Dean? _ Memory flooded his confused mind; hotel, sleeping, someone on top of him, holding him down, and then nothing.

A low whimper escaped from his lips.

He darted his eyes around, to see a water bottle that lolled against his side. He grasped it up in trembling fingers, dropping the pen light to his lap. He twisted off the top and gulped down half the damp fluid in one motion. He recapped the bottle, and eased it back down to rest against his foot. His head fell slowly backward to lean against the hard wooden wall that surrounded him. He attempted to slow his uneven breathing, to calm his out of control fear as the four walls seemed to close in around him. _Dean would come, Dean would find him. _

-o-

It had been five long hours, and Dean was no closer to seeing the blue Ford truck, or finding Sam, than he had been when he'd left the motel. Anxiety gripped at him tightly; an overwhelming guilt that was draining his last reserves. He had driven for miles, eyes darting around the parking lots, the fields, the back roads, looking for any evidence of the truck or his little brother. The fear that clutched at his chest made it hard for him to breathe. He had not come back from hell, just to loose his brother to some screwed up hunters bent on hurting the only family he had left. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he blinked them back hastily. _Stay focused, find Sammy. _

He veered the car off the roadway, flung it into park and gripped the steering wheel tightly. _This was getting him nowhere. _ He yanked his cell phone from his shirt pocket and punched in Bobby Singer's speed dial. The phone rang three times before the familiar voice spoke through the line.

"You got Singer."

"Bobby?" Dean's voice said unsteadily.

"Hey …how's it going?" Bobby asked curiously, happy to hear from a living, breathing Dean Winchester.

"They took him…" Dean said angrily, his chest heaving between the words.

"What? Dean? Bobby said curiously. "Calm down…who took what?"

"They took Sam…I went for breakfast, when I got back, he was…he was gone. I…I've been looking all day…Bobby, he's gone." Dean's words rushed across his lips.

Bobby could hear emotion in Dean's every remark, the young hunter's voice stuttering and stammering between weary gasps.

"Okay, Dean, you got to calm down, okay, calm down. Now…who took him?"

"I don't know…Bobby, I can't…he doesn't even have on his shoes." Dean grew silent, as tears rushed to his eyelids. He pushed his shaky hand through his cropped hair and attempted to reel in his emotions.

Bobby sat stunned, ears listening to the sounds of Dean Winchester becoming unglued. He paused, thoughts running amuck in his own head. _Who took Sam? _

"Dean, where are you?"

"Ah…ah, I'm at some gas station outside of Moline, Illinois, about thirty miles from where we were staying…I keep looking, but I…I..."

"Dean, listen….Where are you staying?" the concerned older hunter asked.

"Old Forge Motel….H…highway 93," Dean whispered, "Bobby I tried to find him…I really tried…."

I'm on my way to you, just go back to the motel and wait for me." Bobby said firmly.

"Okay…okay…"

"Dean, we'll figure it out. We'll find him…Dean...you hear me."

"Yeah…" Dean's defeated voice just a low sigh through the cell phone.

-o-

Sam lifted his tired head, his long bangs stuck against his sweaty face, damp drops rolling slowly down his neck to puddle against the back of his tee shirt. He tried to stay focused on breathing, just trying to stay alive. _Dean would come, he would find him. _ He moved his foot to rest against the right hand corner, feeling a slight channel of air blowing lightly against his toes. _What is that? _ He realized it was air, fresh air coming in from a small golf ball size hole at the end of the box. He began to squirm, to move his cramped body around, attempting to reposition his head on the opposite end of the box. After several minutes of struggling, his overtaxed body sagged against the other side. Tear's immediately pooled in his eyelids as he realized the men who took him had wanted to make him suffer, to linger in this prison. They gave him just enough to keep him going – air and water. The tears rolled unabashed down his face as he leaned his head down closer to the hole, the fresh air hitting him lightly on the cheek. His shoulders shuddered, as he lost control of his emotions and sobbed. _He wasn't stong enough to do this. He needed his brother. Please Dean, come find me._

7


	4. Chapter 4

**RUNNING ON EMPTY **

**By supernaturaldh**

**Beta: Kokoda2007 – Who only makes my stories better. **

**Note: She may beta, but I tweak like crazy, so, all mistakes are my own.**

**Chapter 4**

**Sins of the Father fall to the Son**

Dean paced the small motel room - around the bed, into the bathroom, back to the door, opening it, looking around outside, closing it, only to start the frantic motions all over again. He had been waiting impatiently for Bobby Singer to arrive, the older hunter calling fifteen minutes ago to tell him he was just down the road. Dean had already been to the motel registration office, inquiring about the occupants of the dark blue Ford truck. Reluctantly, the clerk had given him the names of the two men that he thought had taken his kid brother. Unfortunately, they weren't names he recognized - Daryl Leone and Brian Greenway, names he prayed were not aliases.

The worried hunter's eyes shot from the carpet to the window, the sound of Bobby's large Chevy recognizable in the twilight air. He tromped hurriedly to the door and yanked it harshly open. He twisted his head to see his old friend pulling into a parking spot, and swiftly exiting his truck.

"Dean, any luck finding Sam?" Bobby spoke urgently as he moved toward the younger man. He stowed his car keys into his coat pocket as he gazed with concerned eyes at the haggard figure in front of him. _He hoped with all his heart that Sam was lounging lazily on the bed and that Dean was going to tell him that this had all been a big waste of his time. _

"No", Dean muttered dejectedly, "But, I found out the two guys names that I think took him."

Both hunters moved swiftly through the door, Dean's fingers tugging it closed as he turned to stare intently at Bobby.

"Brian Greenway and Daryl Leone, ring any bells with you?" Dean asked curiously.

The older hunters face fell.

"Damn it," Bobby tugged the ball cap from his thinning hair with haste and slapped in unhappily against his thigh. He sucked in a weary breath, "Daryl Leone, he hunted with your Dad and I a long time ago. Man's a real ass."

Dean's eyes blazed with disbelief, "He hunted with Dad?"

"Yeah, it was a hunt for a spirit at Gray Stone Cemetery, just outside of Chicago. The hunt kind of took a turn for the worst, the hunters all arguing about how to extinguish the multiple spirits that were buried in a mass grave after the big Chicago fire in 1871. It seems that Daryl Leone had his own means of extinguishing the ghosts; and most of the group followed him blindly. Me, John, and a few of the others did not support the plan, so they left us at the motel, and attempted to snuff the spirits out on their own. When we figured it out and showed up, it hadn't turned out well. The multiple apparitions got the upper hand due to Leone's stupid plan and several hunters were hurt, including Daryl. If it hadn't been for your Dad the other pissed off hunters would have left him for dead, but John was adamant about dropping him off at a hospital. So, we did. "

"If my Dad helped him, then why would he want to hurt Sam?" Dean's face twitched angrily as he shuffled anxiously from one foot to the other.

"Daryl Leone never knew your Dad was the reason he was dropped off at the hospital, never would believe it, after the fact. From then on, he hated John Winchester, said he hoped that he got what was coming to him." Bobby shook his head in disbelief. "I've tried on several occasions to tell him, but Daryl Leone is a hard headed son of a…."

"What about this other dude? Brian Greenway, you ever heard of him?" Dean asked inquisitively, his hand's nervously clinching into fists as his sides.

"Nope, but I'll make some calls, see what we can find out." Bobby pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket and punched in a number, his face giving Dean the once over. _The kid looked beat. _

"Hang on Dean; we'll get to the bottom of this. We **will** find Sam." Bobby reassured, free hand coming up to squeeze Dean's slumped shoulder.

Dean's bright green orbs looked silently to his friend, anguish and grief evident on his face. _God, please…please don't let us be too late. I can't loose my brother now. Not after everything, I just can't. _

-o-

"Yeah, yeah, I got it. Okay…okay, Joshua, thanks man. No, if we need anything, I'll call." Bobby flipped his cell phone closed, eyes resting on Dean.

"So?" The distraught brother asked wearily, hand pulling absently through his hair as he gazed curiously at Bobby.

"Seems Greenway hooked up with Daryl Leone sometime back; right after he got out of the Indiana State Penitentiary, he was roomies with a former friend of yours….Gordon Walker."

"Son of a bitch." Dean slammed his hand against the table, limbs visually shaking with his words.

"I got an address; Greenway lives about 60 miles from here, in Rockford, Illinois." Bobby's eyebrows arched up in a wicked V, small smile curling to his lips.

"Let's go." Dean nodded eagerly, "I'll drive."

"Not a chance, dude, you're already worn out. I'll drive." Bobby jingled his car keys in his fingers as he moved quickly out the door.

Dean sighed, knowing it was a battle he wouldn't win. He followed Bobby hastily toward his truck. His fingers brushed lightly down the side of the Impala as he moved past it, "I'll be back baby…"

-o-

The flashlight flickered and Sam's throat tightened. The fear that darkness brought coiled tightly in his chest. He reached down and grabbed the small penlight up from his lap, gripping it loosely in his shaky hand. _Please god; don't let the light go out…please. _

He blinked back the dampness from his bloodshot eyes, wayward tears rolled slowly down his sweaty face. His tired head lolled back against the hard wooden wall as he shivered uncontrollably. He felt so tired, so drained; the heat of his close surroundings had zapped away his energy. He didn't know how long he been stuck, sitting in this cramped space, but he did know it was getting colder, the heat that had made him sweat for so long, was now gone. The cold air soaked in around him, causing his damp clothes to chill him to the bone. He shivered.

He wrapped his long arms around his midsection, offering his body little warmth. _He was hungry, his stomach growled again. _ He switched off the flashlight, just glad he could control the light around him. He closed his tired lids, body struggling to face his fears, to just breathe. His hazy mind wondered back to his big brother and the time he had spent without him. _He missed Dean so much during those long four months. He missed his brother right now. _ He shuddered as his overwrought system succumbed once again to the dank space around him; the cold tugging harshly at his weary frame. He blinked and then allowed his sluggish lids to close once more. His last coherent thought was of Dean. _He was out of hell, wasn't he? He didn't just dream all of that, did he? _ He drifted off to an unrestful sleep, dreams of demons, and deals, and hell hounds that ripped his brother to shreds.

-o-

The large Chevy truck drove slowly down the dark side street. Nightfall had overtaken the quiet avenue, the temperature dropping abruptly. Four eyes gazed disbelievingly at the blue Ford truck parked starkly in the driveway.

"Wow, these guys got balls, or they're just really stupid." Dean said simply, as he pointed out the Ford to Bobby.

"Is that it?" Bobby asked curiously, as he pulled the truck to the curb and lunged the gear into park.

"Nebraska plates, that's it." Dean shuffled rapidly out the passenger door, hand grasping his gun and checking the safety was off. "I'm gonna kill um…" he muttered.

"Dean, breath…calm down, let's stay in control here."

The two hunters stepped stealthily toward the front of the house, eyes darting around the yard as they moved in perfect synchronization to the porch. Dean slid to the side of the door, standing stoically next to Bobby. The older hunter clutched the door knob; he stopped, glared up at Dean, nodded, and then, shoved the door open in one quick motion. Dean bounded promptly inside, gun poised on the startled face of one Daryl Leone.

"I'd suggest you stand perfectly still Daryl, as Dean is a little twitchy on the trigger finger." Bobby offered cockily.

"Well shit." Daryl Leone said exasperatedly, his eyes rolling to rest on the handgun positioned securely in Dean's fingers.

Bobby looked around, his own gun held tightly in his hand. He moved quickly through the rooms, checking for Brian Greenway.

"Where the hell is your buddy?" Dean asked as he moved the barrel to point directly between the hunter's eyes.

"Guess he went out the backdoor," Daryl snickered.

The sounds of the blue Ford truck revved up in the driveway. Bobby ran to the front door just in time to see the vehicle move post hast backward down the drive, tears squealing, as it roared out into the roadway and sped down the street.

"Shit" Bobby yelled.

"You ass, where is my brother?" Dean's fingers yanked the man by the collar, dragging him physically across the floor and flinging him harshly against the wall. The oldest Winchester's fingers held him harshly at the collar, gun pointed directly in his face.

"Why would I tell you that?" The hard core hunter voiced angrily. "Your Dad was the jerk that left me for dead."

Bobby turned on his heals; eyes squinting in anger at Daryl who was slumped against the wall.

"How many times do I gotta' to tell you, damn it, John Winchester did not leave you for dead. He was the one who had us take you to the hospital. Just because his plan was better than yours doesn't make him the bad guy."

Daryl snorted, eyes rolling with Bobby's words.

Dean shoved his gun harshly beneath the idiot's chin, his steel glare one inch from the hunters face.

"Dude, my Dad would not leave a hunter for dead, ever." Dean's hot breathe blew viciously against Daryl's cheek. The oldest Winchesters fingers balled the man's shirt up tightly in his clinched fist.

Daryl Leone looked intently into Dean's face. _Unfortunately, the young man didn't look like a liar. _ Honesty seemed to radiate from his jade green orbs.

The hard headed hunter shrugged up his thick eyebrows, a contemplative look easing across his expression. "Humph…you would say that, he was your Dad." he muttered.

"Come on Daryl, hunters don't kill other hunters. We are all in this together." Bobby voiced as he moved to stand directly behind Dean, eyes glaring over at his former friend. "Sides, your beef was with John, not with his boys. You're better than that, dude."

"But your brother, he brought you back from hell." Daryl glared back to Dean. "He's evil."

"Do you believe every freaking thing you hear?" Dean shoved the gun up harshly against Daryl's chin, barrel pinching at his skin, causing the hunter to wince.

"Depends on who says it." Daryl grinned wickedly.

"And who told you that crock of crap?" Bobby asked.

"Brian said he heard it from some of Gordon's friends." Daryl stated matter of fact.

"Oh jeez, and you believed those idiots." Bobby laughed loudly.

Dean's patience had run out. He gave the hunter a harsh shake, feeling no regret as Leone's eye twitched with anxiety, Dean's gun barrel pushing deeply against his throat.

"Okay…okay…." The uncomfortable man muttered.

"Where is my brother?" Dean said harshly, piercing green eyes pleadingly looking at the hunter.

Daryl released a long sigh, "So, John took me to the hospital, huh?" he asked Bobby curiously, face gazing back at his former friend.

"Yes, Daryl, how many times I got to tell you this?"

The group stood in silence, Dean forcing the gun tip deeply into the Daryl's fleshy skin, finger twitching unconscientiously against the trigger.

"Come one Daryl, give it up. It ain't worth dying over." Bobby's eyes glinted at the man beneath Dean's gun barrel.

"Hmmmm, well, if you want to help your brother, you better get there before Brian Greenway…he's crazy."

Dean's finger eased off of the trigger, his hand falling down slowly with the gun as he stared at Daryl's face. _He didn't trust him. He wanted him dead. Anyone that hurt his brother, he wanted dead. _

"Gray Stone Cemetery - just outside of Chicago."

Daryl's fingers caressed his aching throat.

"The cemetery…," Dean whispered, as fear knotted up tightly in his stomach.

"The same cemetery you thought we left you for dead in?" Bobby muttered, amazed look adorning his face.

"He's alive, or at least he was." Daryl muttered.

"Let's go," Dean motioned with his gun toward the door. "You're coming with us, show us where Sammy is."

"What? I thought if I told you, you'd let me go."

"Well, you're an idiot." Dean said as he shoved the hunter unexpectedly through the doorway, the man stumbling toward Bobby's truck.

9


	5. Chapter 5

**RUNNING ON EMPTY **

**By supernaturaldh**

**Beta: Kokoda2007 **

**Chapter 5**

**I Gotcha**

He couldn't move, his cramped muscles seizing up, aching. His skin was so cold it felt like ice, and his teeth chattered uncontrollably. The dampness clung to him, soaked down deep into his bones. He could barely breathe; the air stagnant and stale as it sat around him. He had drank the last of the water sometime back, the cool liquid coating his parched throat, but now the bottle was empty, and his throat was so dry it felt like it was closing shut. He could no longer scream; it hurt just to swallow. The only sound he could hear was the tiny voice that reverberated in his head – _no one is coming, you're all alone; you're going to die here. _

He didn't know how long he had been in this place; he didn't know where he was - a box; a wooden box, from which there was no escape, a prison, holding him hostage. His fingertips were coated with blood, skin torn, fingernails ripped away, from clawing at his confinement. The flashlight flickered, and fear overwhelmed him. It was the darkness that scared him the most. His fingers tightened on the tiny pen light and clutched it desperately against his chest. _Please don't go out…please…_ He shuddered, and chewed unconsciously on his lower lip until the blood pooled thickly against his tongue. He wanted to be strong, to stay in control, but he was afraid; a fear of the dark, sparked from his childhood, now threatened to take him down. He rocked unconsciously, methodically, too and fro, too and fro. He closed his eyes tightly, remembering the face of a big brother, who once tugged him to his lap, and told him it was all going to be okay. _But, no big brother was coming this time, Dean was in hell and he was all alone. _

He continued to rock, his mind growing thick and hazy; his thoughts no longer able to hang onto reality. _Dean was in hell, no one was coming._ He wanted desperately to wake up from this nightmare, to see his big brother again. His chest struggled to pull in elusive air. Ca_n't breathe…cant'…. breathe._ His head slowly lolled against the wooden prison; fore head pressed against the hard course structure. The light from the flashlight faded in and out, but he was unaware. His eyelids were too heavy to stay open, his pale lips straining to pull in gasps of air. He slowly succumbed to the nothingness that drifted up to greet him.

-o-

The Chevy truck screeched to a sudden halt, Dean's eyes growing wide with anxiety as they gaped at the dark blue Ford parked awkwardly against the backdrop of cemetery headstones.

"Brian's here…we better hurry." Daryl Leone nudged anxiously at Bobby; pushing to escape the cab of the truck. _He didn't want to be responsible for the death of Sam Winchester, not now, when he was stuck with his crazy older brother. _

Dean's heart thudded loudly in his ears as he lunged out of the passenger door, vision darting around the headstones. _Where was Sam?_ His eyes narrowed to slits, staring directly at Daryl Leone, who glanced nervously around the area.

"Where is my brother?" Dean ground out angrily, his pistol waving erratically at the man.

"We buried him back there." The hunter muttered, body shifting away from the kids manic older brother.

Bobby's mouth fell agape, "You buried him?" he said in a startled tone.

"You son of a bitch," Dean's hand yanked the hunter by his wrist, fingers gripping so tightly they threatened to tear the man's arm off. _Oh my god, they buried Sammy… _ Dean's own memories of waking up in a pine box with only his lighter threatened to overwhelm him. _Oh...God. They didn't do that to Sammy._

"Easy there dude, you want to get to your brother, or what." The cocky hunter mouthed as he tugged away from Dean's harsh grasp and moved toward the back of the graveyard.

Dean and Bobby followed swiftly on his heals, Bobby's hand viciously nudging the hunter along, his own handgun ready to shoot his former friend and scum bag if necessary.

-o-

The dark haired young man stood silently by the large headstone of an angel playing a harp. _Some people were just excessive with their grave markers._ He smiled to himself. His eyes dropped to the mound of dirt, gazing at the tube that stuck up out of the ground. _He didn't know why Daryl made him give the kid an air hose; it was just a waste of time. _ He reached his booted foot over and stepped abruptly on the coil of hose, squashing it hard against the ground. _Kid needed to be dead already – evil is what Gordon said, and evil needed to be extinguished. _

"Brian" a voice yelled erratically through the darkness.

His head darted from the coiled piece of tubing to see Daryl Leone moving toward him in the cold night air. He squinted at the two figures beside his friend. _Crap that was Bobby Singer and the kid's big brother. Damn it._

"Don't move." Singer shouted as he pointed his pistol directly at Brian Greenway's head.

The young man glared at all three hunters. "I can't believe you brought them here." Brain gawked angrily at Daryl. "Should have known you would wimp out on me, Gordon said you were unreliable."

"Well, you know what; I think you're an idiot. And for the record, Gordon Walker was a lunatic." Daryl snarled at Brian, eyes rolling in exasperation.

"Where's my brother," Dean demanded, gun barrel pressed tightly against Daryl's head.

"Right there – mound of dirt." Daryl gestured toward the ground, eyes falling to Brian's boot. "Hey Brian, get your damn foot off the air hose."

"Told you we should have killed the kid," Brain leered. He moved his foot quickly off the air hose as he saw the wild eyed look that immediately appeared on Dean Winchester's face.

Dean's weapon shifted its aim from Daryl to Brain, his teeth clinched so tightly that his jaw quivered.

Brain saw a moment and took it. His fingers grabbing swiftly for his own hidden gun, wedged tightly in the back of his blue jeans, beneath his leather jacket.

Dean's steel eyes stared only a second. He pulled the trigger without hesitation, bullet piercing the younger hunter's upper thigh, and sending him screaming to the ground. The silver handgun fell from the injured man's fingers, and thudded to the cold, damp grass.

Bobby Singer leaned down and yanked up the handgun. "Big mistake dude."

Daryl sucked in some air, hoping that Dean Winchester didn't decide to take him out too.

"Digging here…I'm digging." Daryl muttered. He reached down slowly and yanked up the shovel, eyeing the kid's older brother with caution. He pushed the heavy metal down deep into the ground, scooping it up and slinging it hastily over his shoulder.

Bobby looked at Dean, "I got 'um, you just get to Sam." He pointed his gun directly at Daryl Leone and the writhing and moaning Brian Greenway who was still rolling on the ground grabbing frantically at his leg.

"Unfortunately, you'll live." Bobby muttered angrily as he looked pointedly at the suffering man.

Dean tucked his gun into his jeans, and grabbed up the other shovel, dirt flying haphazardly over his head.

"He's only about four feet down." Daryl stated informatively, as he moved rock and dirt quickly from the top of the buried box.

The two men dug simultaneously for several minutes before Dean's shovel finally hit the top of something hard. He dropped the implement and bent down to move his hands across the wooded surface, hands scrapping dirt away. His fingers yanked and tore at the heavy wooden planks, blood pooling on his fingertips as the coarse wood tore at his skin.

Finally, he yanked the last board loose, and a mop of brown hair was visible in the hole. He released a stifled moan. "Sammy."

He gazed down at the unconscious body curled inside the crate. _His brother was so still._

"Sammy?" he whispered again, his hand dropping to rest against his brother's lolling neck.

Feeling a faint thumping he was overwhelmed with joy. _Sam was alive. _

"He's alive." Tears welled to Dean's eyes.

"Thank god." Bobby said softly, his gun still fixed on both the men before him.

"Help me," Dean sneered at Daryl, motioning toward Sam's long legs.

The shovel clanked loudly as Daryl pitched it down and reached to grasp the unconscious man beneath his knees.

Dean straddled the hole behind Sam's head and gripped securely beneath his sibling's arms, slowly pulling him from his tomb.

A flashlight fell loosely from Sam's limp fingers, thudding and rolling against the cold, damp grass.

Dean eased Sam gently to the ground, Daryl releasing the kid's gangly legs and stepping backwards, bumping directly into Bobby's gun.

Dean noticed immediately that Sam was shivering uncontrollably. He hurriedly removed his jacket and tucked it across his brother's still frame. His own fingers shook as he moved them gently through Sam's bangs, brushing the long hair lightly from his lax face.

"Sammy? Wake up kiddo, come on…Sammy…look at me. Sammy?"

Dean's tender fingers caressed at his little brother's cheek, his eyes attempting to blink back the tears that rolled unabridged down his cheeks. _Please Sam…please wake up_ . Soft tears rolled off his chin and splattered against Sam's nose.

"Give me your shoes," Dean motioned his hand toward Daryl Leone's boots.

"What?" the hunter stuttered, eyes growing wide with comprehension, "My shoes?"

"Yes," give me your damn shoes." Dean said as his eyes glinted angrily at the hunter. "Sam's feet are freezing."

"Well, what about my freaking feet?"

"We don't give a shit about your damn feet," Bobby said arrogantly, "Giv'em the shoes."

Brain Greenway laughed loudly, hands pressed heavily against his bleeding thigh.

"Why don't you make Brian give up his shoes?" Daryl said with displeasure.

"His feet are too small." Dean glared, "Hurry up, before I have Bobby shoot your ass."

Bobby's gun pushed suddenly against Daryl's back and the hunter let a low moan escape from his lips as he slipped his feet from his boots, and shoved them at Dean.

-o-

Sam flinched as a voice encroached upon the darkness. _Someone was saying his name. _ _Was it raining? _ He leaned toward the sound, feeling a comforting motion as gentle fingers caressed the side of his face. His eyes blinked, and then, squinted at the blurry figure leaning down above him.

"Sam?" Dean said anxiously.

Unfocused sluggish hazels started blankly up at him.

"Its okay, Sammy…I gotcha," Dean cooed.

Sam's half mast eyes fluttered, then gently fell closed.

-0-

Thanks to everyone for reading this story. Big thanks to my beta, Kokoda2007. I know I wear her out with my consistant writing and stupid little mistakes she always seems to catch. Girl, you are awesome.

Reviews are are so great, so do one, if you feel the need.

Denise


	6. Chapter 6

**RUNNING ON EMPTY**

**By supernaturaldh**

**Chapter 6**

**Dumb and Dumber**

Dean reached down and pulled his shaky hands through his little brother's sweat drenched hair, fingers gently traveling down Sam's limp body checking for injuries. He was relieved to see that his brother was breathing easier, no longer straining to pull in ragged gasps of air.

"We didn't do anything to him, just gave him something to knock him out. He came to in that box." Daryl offered up freely.

Dean's hostile jade eyes glared at the barefoot hunter. "Well, you better hope that he's okay, 'cause I will kill you both," he muttered angrily.

"Dean?" Bobby spoke firmly, eyes darting from Dean to Daryl, his former friend now seemingly sucking up to Dean with all he could muster. The man was obviously afraid of the volatile young Winchester, just like he was afraid of John so very long ago, Bobby chuckled at the realization. His fingers clutched tightly against his shotgun, his eyes glancing down to rest on Brian, who was languishing on the grass, a low moan emanating from his pale, drawn lips. _Poor sucker, already felt the wrath of Dean Winchester._

Dean's fingers moved gently beneath Sam's loose neck, arm gripping tightly to his unconscious sibling's body, Sam's head lolled lightly against his big brother's shoulder. He eased his other arm beneath Sam's complaint knees, throat releasing a slight grunt as he stood, readjusted his position and tugged his submissive baby brother up with him. _Damn Sam, lay off the salads_ .

Sam moaned involuntarily, a little shudder racing through his lax limbs. Dean's lips briefly brushed against Sam's sweat matted hair as he whispered caringly, "Its okay Sammy, I gotcha."

Sam's forehead formed frown lines, his head nudging lightly into Dean's shoulder, but he didn't open his eyes, nor did he utter another sound.

"Let's go," Bobby pointed the gun directly at Daryl, "I suggest you help your buddy there." The shotgun waggled toward the injured man.

Daryl rolled his eyes, "He ain't my buddy."

"You ass," Brian whispered through gritted teeth as he raised his clammy face up to gaze stupidly at Daryl.

The hunter grabbed Brian's arm and yanked him abruptly up, letting the injured man sway against him as he released a painful yelp.

"You're an idiot." Daryl said hatefully, as he manhandled Brain against him. "I should never have listened to you - you're crazy, just like Gordon Walker," he hissed.

Daryl tugged Brian harshly forward, practically dragging him along behind Dean; the hard metal of Bobby's gun barrel nudging coldly against the small of his back.

-o-

Dean was panting hard, his mind focused on one thing, getting his precious cargo to safety. He eyed the door handle with concern as he heard Bobby rustle around him to open the passenger door. The older hunter's gun still tightly held in his other hand, pointed directly at the two idiot hunters. Dean gently slid his kid brother down against the cloth seat, pushing him toward the center. He eased Sam's head back to rest on the bench seat. Dean grabbed a blanket from behind the seat and tugged it up around Sam, tucking it tightly around his shaking form.

"Easy there tiger" he cupped his hands against Sam's still face, fingers rubbing lightly at the kids pale cheeks. "Sammy?" he whispered with unease.

"Mmmm" the only reaction Sam gave, not much, but it relieved Dean slightly; at least it was a response.

"Well, what're we doing with dumb and dumber here?" Bobby asked sarcastically, watching as Dean turned slowly back to face them.

"Kill um" Dean said assuredly, hand whipping his handgun from its perch in the back of his blue jeans. His eyebrows darted up into an angry frown, eyes gazing harshly at both men responsible for kidnapping and hurting his little brother.

Daryl Leone had never begged for his life, but tonight, he was prepared to do so. He gazed wide eyed at John Winchester's eldest, his hand tugging Brian Greenway's arm up tighter across his shoulder.

"Look man, I'm sorry…I thought I needed to get vengeance on you're Daddy, it was stupid. I think Brain got a little carried away."

Brian rolled his eyes and a slight huff rolled from his lips.

"Ya think, look, this is serious, you could have killed my brother." Dean spat out.

"I know…I know….I'm sorry man, I know now, John didn't leave me in that damn cemetery." Daryl acknowledged, hoping Dean was a forgiving man, praying he was not totally like his father.

"Humph," Dean snorted, eyes dashing to Bobby then back to the two men standing before him.

Bobby held his breathe, mind racing as he contemplated what Dean might do.

Dean moved his handgun up to point directly at Daryl; green eyes squinted up in a hostile glare. His finger twitched noticeably against the trigger. He sucked in a calming breathe, focusing on one thing, kill the two men that hurt his brother.

His finger tugged lightly against the trigger, his mind oblivious to what was right or wrong, only that these men had hurt his brother.

He was suddenly distracted by a low pleading whisper that crept into his ears.

"No Dean, don't." Sam's whimpered words echoed from behind Dean's head.

Dean's hand quivered on the trigger as he turned slightly to gaze at his little brother's pale face.

Sam's eyes were wide and unfocused, blinking slowly at his older brother.

Dean stood stoically contemplating the situation and his little brother's weak words. He slowly lowered the gun, eyes dark emeralds of emotion.

"Awe Sammy, come on. Just lemme shoot'um." Dean's voice whined like a small child, green eyes looking anxiously at Sam.

Sam's lips curled up slightly; his sluggish orbs gazing blearily at his big brother.

Dean's deviance melted away. He looked back at the two hunters wobbling in front of him.

"Either of you come near my brother again, I will shoot your ass on sight," he spat out vehemently, dark eyes staring daggers at the two idiots in front of him. He stuffed the gun back into his jeans, nodded at Bobby, and eased into the front seat of the truck, tugging his little brother up in his arms, and resting his head against his chest.

Bobby felt the clump in his throat ease up, relief that Sam had woke up enough to change his older brother's mind. He was a man of principle, and although he wanted these two dead for what they did to Sam, they weren't supernatural, they were just imbeciles.

"I need your shoes," Bobby stated flatly as he stared at Brian Greenway.

"What?" Brain queried, eyes grown wide with disbelieve. "What for?"

"Just because I can," Bobby grinned.

"Nah man, come on, I can barely stand up now."

"Tough," Bobby sneered, "Give um." His free hand moved forward, fingers wiggling, the shotgun still pointed fixedly at both men.

"I can't bend down to get them, man, my leg hurts." Brian said hopefully, praying he could keep his shoes on his feet.

"My god; quit whining." Daryl lowered Brian to the ground; his fingers reaching down and yanking off the younger hunter's boots.

He pushed the shoes toward Bobby's waiting fingers, grin falling to his own lips. "Hey Singer, you think you can send someone out here after us, maybe after you get to town."

"Maybe." Bobby's eyebrows arched up, "Maybe not."

The elder hunter grabbed the boots from Daryl's fingers, and eyed both men cautiously.

"Give me your damn keys, drop 'um in the boots...now!", Bobby damanded, eyes glaring at the idiots standing shoeless in front of him.

Both hunters shuffled their cold hands into their pockets and dropped their car keys inside the boots that Bobby held out in front if him, fingers gripped tightly to the worn leather. Bobby grinned wickedly. He slung the boots into the back of his truck and pulled open the drivers door, shoved the shotgun behind the seat, and slid inside. He looked intently at Sam, his hand moving the youngest Winchesters bangs gently from his eyes.

Dean smiled at Bobby, and clutched Sammy closer.

Bobby flung the truck into gear; a sloppy grin rising to his lips as he eyeballed the two men standing barefoot in the grass.

-o-

Sam's first coherent idea was that he was leaning against something firm, yet soft, a steady thumping sound assaulting his ears. He nuzzled in closer, as he felt warm arms holding him tightly. His tired limbs ached with the movement and he moaned.

"Easy" a low voice whispered against his ear.

His eyes stared momentarily at the object that was swinging lightly against his face; he wriggled up his nose, squinting at the dangling figure. _Dean's necklace?_ His fingers reached slowly upward, clutching at the article to stop its motion; shaky fingers wrapping around the tiny amulet and holding it tightly.

"You okay, Sammy?" the comforting voice murmured and he slowly nodded his head.

He could hear the light wailing of tires against the roadway, he recognized the sound. The murmurings and whispers of two voices; voices that he knew. He felt safe, secure, and drifted just above nothingness. A sudden memory assaulted his senses and he shuddered harshly, fingers tugging the necklace tightly in his hand. _A wooden box surrounded him, all alone, his brother in hell. It took his breath away. _

"Easy, Sammy, you're gonna be fine, just fine." Dean soothed.

He recognized his brother's voice, the low inflections in Dean's tone, tender words murmured against the side of his hair. He felt gentle fingers prying the object from his clutches, and he blinked unfocused eyes up at Dean. His brother's callused hand running lightly through his hair and soothing away his fear.

"I gotcha Sammy, I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere. I gotcha."

NOTE TO READERS: Sorry, no beta, all errors are my own. -dh-

7


	7. Chapter 7

**RUNNING ON EMPTY**

By supernaturaldh

Beta: Thanks to my awesome beta Kokoda2007! There are no words to say what an excellent job she does of keeping me straight. Of course, any mistakes I make after her great beta job are simply my own.

**Chapter 7**

**Just Beneath the Veil **

Sam tried to hold his eyes open, he really did, but it was a struggle he was destined to loose. His heavy lids would not comply with his wishes; his body slowly shutting down from the events of the last 48 hours.

He indistinctly felt the truck come to a stop, his body sliding slightly forward on the well worn seat. Dean's strong hand palmed quickly against his chest, pushing him firmly back. He heard a low squeak, and recognized the sound of metal doors opening; the old truck bobbling lightly up and down. A sudden cold breeze assaulted his senses, and he shuddered, a low, raspy whimper escaping from his lips.

"Easy…bro…easy - Its okay, we're at the motel; let's get you inside." Dean's voice was low, a gentle whisper that carried across the veil of darkness.

Sam knew he should get out of the truck but his aching limbs refused to obey. He moaned lightly, eyelashes fluttering, as he looked distraughtly at his big brother. Strong arms wrapped around him, holding him steady as they eased him slowly forward. His long legs dangled against metal as his bottom perched on the edge of the seat.

Dean continually whispered quiet reassurances against Sam's matted, dirty hair.

"It's okay Sammy,** I gotcha. ** That's it, **I gotcha,** " worry hanging on every word.

Bobby moved swiftly around the passenger door, his fingers' gripping the young hunter's other arm.

Sam felt his knees buckling as his heavy body was pulled from its position on the seat, his eyes flew wildly open, hands reaching for something to grasp against.

"**Whoa…Easy Sammy** , we got you, **we got you. ** Let us do the work, okay…."

Dean's voice reached Sam's muddled brain and he slowly relaxed into his big brother's hold, arms no longer flailing. _Dean would not let him fall._ His bloody fingers clutched weakly at Dean's tee shirt, as darkness edged into his peripheral vision and he swayed abruptly.

"**Whoa…whoa, Bobby, you got 'em** ?" Dean held tightly to Sam's weaving frame, keeping his kid brother physically upright. He glanced hesitantly over at the older hunter.

Bobby's hand lunged around the swaying youth, gripping tightly to Sam's waist.

"Damn kids heavy," Bobby grunted, fingers tugging Sam more securely against his side.

Sam blinked at his fading vision, as two strong arms tightened their grip against him. Callused fingers clutched at his wrists, pulling and tugging his arms up more firmly on either side. He felt his shoes bounce against the ground, dragging roughly on the gravel and dirt. A firm hand clasped the side of his face and gently moved his cheek to rest against a warm shoulder, stopping his heads wobbling motion. He strained to hear soft muttered words; Dean and Bobby's voices floating off in the distance. His mind drifted, taking leave from his senses, as his long limbs slowly folding underneath him.

"Sammy?"

Sam heard Dean's voice as he drifted toward the void of nothingness.

-o-

The sunlight filtered through the threadbare curtains, little darts of brightness waving lightly against dirty yellow walls. Bobby Singer's tired body was draped ungraciously in a heap across a twin bed, bedspread snarled up beneath him, tiny snores escaping from his parted lips.

Dean's chin was resting wobbly on his fisted fingers, elbow propped on the arm of a tattered lime green chair. The older brother's eyes were half mast, jade green orbs fixated on his little brother's sleeping face.

Sam was nestled in a mound of blankets on the bed just opposite from Bobby. He was flushed with fever, his damp bangs curling toward his face. His arms lay limply on the covers, hands and fingers wrapped tightly in sterile white gauze. He had been sleeping since returning to the motel some seven hours ago. Bobby and Dean had cleaned him up, forced water past his parched lips, and dosed him with aspirin and pain medication; finally, they had let the exhausted hunter fall into a restless sleep.

Dean gazed worriedly at brother; he leaned forward and removed the damp rag from his Sam's forehead, cooled it in the pan of water, then placed it lightly back against Sammy's warm brow. The feverish man moaned agitatedly, his pupils darting beneath his closed lids.

Dean only wished he could have prevented this from happening; prevented his little brother from suffering from this fate. The thought made him shudder, his own memory of waking up all alone, in a pine box, assaulted his weary senses. He understood the fear, the doubts, and the overwhelming feeling that no one could save you; that no one was coming.

The elder brother's hand moved down to grasp at Sammy's arm. His eyes focused on the bandages that wrapped the kid's hands and fingers. The evidence was obvious, Sam had been awake, and had tried to claw his way out of the box. It was a horror that Dean would never have wished on anyone, especially his little brother.

Sighing, the older Winchester scrubbed his free hand across his two day old beard, and then pushed his fingers roughly through his short cropped hair. _If he'd thought he and Sam needed to talk before, he was damn sure they needed to talk now. _

He smiled slightly. They had both been ecstatic when he came back from hell; they didn't ask a lot of questions, they didn't need to know. But now, he realized, they'd ignored the conversations they needed to have. Their emotions held in silence about things they'd not discussed.

He shook his head. _No more_ . Regret gripped at his heart. He would not let this distance stay between them; they would talk, they would share, no matter how much a chick flick moment threatened to occur. They would work through this.

His thoughts were interrupted as Bobby sat up, bed squeaking under the older hunter's weight.

"How's he doing?" Bobby asked, concerned face looking from Dean to Sam.

"Same." Dean sighed wearily.

"Man, you need to get some rest.' Bobby said caringly.

"Not till I know Sam's okay." Dean whispered, his fingers rubbing lightly up and down his little brother's arm.

Bobby's eyebrows arched up unhappily at Dean; he knew this was a fight he would not win, "You hungry?" he asked.

"Coffee sounds good." Dean grinned tiredly at the older man.

"I'll get coffee and food, you need to eat, or you won't be any good to your little brother." _These boys were the closest thing he had to sons and he would make sure they took care of themselves._

-O-

Sam's first lucid thought was that he was warm, and he languished momentarily in the feeling. He was slow to recognize his aching limbs, and lightly throbbing head. Gradually his senses came back on line and he realized he was in pain, an all over aching pain. He struggled to pull open his sleep laden lids, to come back to the waking world. _Where was he, why did his whole body hurt?_ A sudden flash of memory made his gasp, and he struggled against the bed.

"Sammy, easy Sam…look at me….Sammy….you're okay."

Sam blinked. He recognized Dean's voice as he felt his brother's fingers gripping at him tightly, holding him firmly still. He focused on the comforting words, hazel eyes moving sluggishly to look up at Dean's face.

"Hey buddy…glad to see you're awake." Dean's smiled brightly.

"D...e…an?" Sam stuttered out.

"Right here buddy, right here."

Sam felt his brother release his hold. He slowly raised his gauzed covered hands and stared at them inquisitively. His face fell, and his eyes grew huge as sudden realization soaked in. _It wasn't a dream, he had been buried alive_ . He gulped in a panic riddled breathe.

"Easy Sam," Dean gripped his brother's shoulder.

"I…I was…b…buried alive, and…and I c…couldn't get...Dean…I c...couldn't get out." Tears rose instantly to Sam's bloodshot eyes, as he hiccupped through his shaky words.

"Aw Sammy…I'm so sorry…"

Dean's sad eyes looked at his distraught little brother; his own memories of waking up buried alive making him pull in his own short breathe of air.

"I…you...you were in…hell…" Sam stuttered; large tears rolling silently down his pale face, body quivering against the blankets. "I…I was…so…sc…scared, I…was a…a…alone."

Dean couldn't take it anymore; all he saw was the five year old he used to hold tightly, protecting from the dark. He knew Sam was talking about more than just the last two days; he was talking about the four months he'd lived without his big brother. The older brother moved quickly, arms wrapping tightly around Sammy. His hand eased Sam's head beneath his chin, arms holding his little brother firmly. Tears rose to Dean's eyes, and he struggled to contain his own emotions.

"I'm back, Sammy, and I'm not going anywhere, you're not alone, you hear me? I'm not going anywhere."

7


	8. Chapter 8

**RUNNING ON EMPTY**

By supernaturaldh

Thank you to Kokoda2007 for being my wonderful beta on this story. Her encouraging words and simple changes only made my work easier.

Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed this story. You are all the best. -supernaturaldh-

**Chapter 8**

**Let Your Burden Go**

The doorway to the Winchester's simple motel room swung open with excessive force, the older man balancing two large take out bags, a six pack of beer, and bottled water in his hands. He moved hesitantly across the threshold; his eyes resting on the older Winchester. He realized the sound of his old pickup was familiar and Dean had obviously heard him come into the parking lot. He relaxed slightly, his fear of being witness to Dean's big brother protection mode easing from his mind.

"It's me," Bobby offered up, bags ruffling around as his heel booted the door shut, his arm's struggling to hold the objects, and make it to the table.

The senior hunter quickly diverted his face back to the loot in his hands, as he caught sight of the two figures slumped against the bed. He didn't want to stare, or make a big deal, as Dean untangled his arms from the giant bear hug he was obviously giving his distraught little brother. He heard the younger Winchester sniffle, and glanced back up to see his clumsy bandaged fingers swiping against his damp cheeks.

"Stop that Sam; you'll make your hands bleed again." Dean said authoritatively as he shifted to his feet, and moved toward Bobby. "We're starving, aren't we Sammy?

"Na," Sam mumbled nasally as he eased back down against the pillows, his feverish lids slipping closed.

"Whoa, hang on a second, Sammy. You're eating something kiddo, so don't even think about sleeping yet." Dean demanded.

Sam's hazel eyes gazed blearily at his older brother, an exasperated look flitting momentarily across his pale face.

Dean gave him a sloppy grin; fingers rummaging through the take out bags. "So, Bobby, what cha' get?"

Bobby felt a small smile curl to his lips. _This was good, Sam was awake, and maybe they were talking. This was good._

-o-

Pushing the now empty take out bag across the table, Dean slid his back against the chair, his burning eyes staring at Sam. His little brother was asleep again, curled over on his side, one bandaged hand fisted up, and squashed between the pillow and his pale cheek. The image alone made Dean smile. He yawned silently, his tired arms reaching up above his weary head and stretching against exhaustion.

"Okay, that's it." A voice weaved its way into Dean's sluggish ears and he tilted his head to the side, his tired jade orbs looking inquisitively at Bobby Singer.

"Huh?" he whispered.

Bobby's firm hands reached down and grasped Dean by the forearms, "I said that's it; you got to get some sleep."

The tired man blinked slowly.

"Come on Dean; let's get you over to the bed." Bobby said resolutely.

"No," Dean breathed, yanking his arms away from the grasping fingers, "I'm watching Sam."

"Don't mess with me son, I said you're getting some rest, and I mean it."

No room for questions or retorts, Bobby's hands came back and yanked Dean abruptly up to stand against him.

The tired hunter swayed. "I'm fine, Bobby, really."

"Yeah, sure you are. You two have been running on empty for weeks now, enough already."

Dean knew there was no fighting Bobby Singer. When he got a thought in his head, he was like a dog with a bone. He let his heavy body be lurched forward; Bobby's secure grip holding him steady. He was pushed lightly downward, tired limbs flailing against the worn out mattress. He relaxed into the comfort, his body stretching out and betraying him, as he sunk resignedly against the softness.

"You rest, I'll watch Sam." Bobby said again, tucking a well worn blanket up across Dean.

The older Winchester sighed in response, his sleepy, bloodshot eyes gazing unwavering at Bobby's face, "Promise?"

A large hand patted the exhausted hunter lightly on the chest. "Yes, Dean, I promise. I won't let him out of my sight. You can rest now."

Dean's head rolled slowly to the side, half mast lids falling to watch his sleeping brother. He struggled to stay awake, but, soon lost the battle, as his heavy eyes closed, oblivion taking him under.

-o-

Time had slowed in the motel room, exhausted Winchesters languishing on the both beds. Bobby had watched them as they slept, tugged at their blankets, checked Sam's hands, and monitored the younger man's fever for the last seven hours. He had drunk all the coffee, watched reruns on television, read the newspapers, and soaked in the silence. He couldn't take it anymore. His stomach grumbled from the hunger. _He hated to do it, but, he was going to have to wake up Dean. _

He moved silently across the room, hand squeezing the sleeping man's shoulder and giving him a light shake.

Dean's lips twitched, his eyelashes fluttering against his face.

Bobby shook him a little harder, watching as Dean made a conscious effort to open his eyes.

"Hey kid." Bobby grinned, "Time to get up."

Dean's weighty lids blinked again, as he brought one hand up to scrub across his face. Sudden memory flashed across his features, his hand dropping, as his eyes flickered across the room to look at Sam.

"He's fine, still sleeping," the older hunter offered with a smile, "His fever's down."

Dean sighed and pushed up to a sitting position, looking curiously at his watch, then back to Bobby.

"I'm hungry," the worn-out hunter mumbled.

"No shit," Bobby chortled.

Dean shrugged, brows furrowing in confusion.

"I'm going for food," the older man stated eagerly. He grabbed up the keys from the table, anxious to take a break from his long hours sitting in the motel room.

"Bring me some pie." Dean grinned.

Bobby twisted around, facing the man sitting on the bed.

"Sammy wants some pie." Dean continued, large wide eyes pleading with Bobby.

Bobby rolled his eyes, his hand absently clamoring for the doorknob. _Dean didn't do the puppy dog face as well as Sammy, but he definitely could pull it off._

He huffed in disbelieve at Dean. _Sam didn't want no damn pie, he was asleep._

The older hunter smirked as he shook his head and exited the room.

-o-

Bobby Singer knew it was time for him to go. He had both Winchester boys rested up and recovering from the events of the last couple of days, their lives returning to normal. _Well, as normal as their life could get. _ He sighed heavily. Unfortunately, he knew there was more going on here than just Sam being kidnapped and buried alive. These boys had totally dismissed the occurrences of the last four months, neither wanting to discuss any of it.

Bobby recalled the devastation left in the wake of Dean's untimely death; the horrible days and nights that Sam had stayed with him - spiraling slowly out of control. He also understood the shock that both men had experienced, with Dean's return from hell. While the details were vague: both he and Sam were ecstatic. The fact he was back, was a total readjustment for everyone. The older hunter had high hopes that the brothers had talked after they left his house, but obviously, that had not happened. He understood they each needed time to come to terms with everything - Dean's rise from hell, and Sam's months without him. But ignoring the issues, not discussing them, was not the answer, and Bobby wanted that fixed.

He leaned forward, tugging his baseball cap back against his forehead. He looked at the brothers, both resting against the headboards, shoulders barely touching, watching old reruns on TV. He watched as Sam's mop top of hair slid slowly down onto Dean's shoulder, the older brother moving slightly to accommodate his little brother's weight. He smiled. _He had known these boys since they were small and had watched John Winchester raise them as warriors. Now, John was gone, but he wasn't, and he would do anything to help these boys get through this. _

"Dean," Bobby whispered, "we need to talk."

The older man stood, and muted the television, before turning and walking toward the motel door.

Dean twisted slightly to look at Bobby's retreating back, and then glanced down to his brother, nestled against his shoulder. He moved his hand up and gently eased Sam's face down to a pillow. His little brother shuffled, mumbling something in Latin, but didn't stir, as he drifted back to sleep.

The two hunters crept noiselessly outside into the cool evening air.

"Yeah, Bobby, what is it?" Dean asked as he pushed the door almost closed, a small crack evident, so he could still see Sam.

"Dean, I'm not trying to tell you what to do…" Bobby said hesitantly.

The eldest Winchester's eyes quirked up into a confused glint and he gazed at the concerned hunters face.

"It's just, well, I think you and Sam need to talk bout 'it'."

"It?" Dean said casually.

Bobby's face fell, "Oh, come on, you know what 'it' is, your time in hell, and Sam's time without you."

"Why?" A sullen voice questioned, face glaring down to the gravel beneath socked feet.

"Cause I think you both need to let it out, move forward, get on with your lives."

"We talked, we've moved on." Dean said quietly.

"No Dean, you haven't, and neither has Sam. You got to make the effort, talk to your brother."

Dean watched through the open door as Bobby stepped back into room. He stared, as the closest person he had to a father, moved beside the sleeping Sam. He felt a slight tug at his heartstrings as Bobby gently brushed long bangs from his brother's eyes, then, tugged a blanket up over the kid. _Bobby was right. He needed to deal, but more than that, he needed to help Sam deal. _

-o-

It was night outside when Sam woke up, the television on mute, the room quiet and dark. He moved slowly, his taunt muscle protesting, as he pushed himself up against the pillows. He squinted around the darkness, no Dean or Bobby in sight. A fear gripped at his chest, and he strangled in a wayward breath. _Where were they?_

He immediately noticed the motel door was open a couple of inches, and swung his shaky legs around to sit up. _They must be outside_ .

He stood gradually, gauze wrapped fingers clutching at the bedspread. He shuffled slowly toward the doorway, wrapped hands moving from the bed post, to the chair, to the table, to the doorframe, in an attempt to keep his weak knees from buckling.

The dim room was spun lightly, and he sucked in a large gulp of air, hoping that the spinning would stop. _Boy, the last few days had taken a lot out of him. _ He shuddered at his thoughts and leaned against the doorframe. His bandaged fingers throbbed as he held on to the door.

"Dean?" he whispered through the crack, the door swinging open with his weight.

Dean stood leaning against the stucco wall; he stared blankly into space. He jumped unconsciously with Sam's words. He darted his eyes over to rest on his swaying sibling. He immediately moved, and reached one hand over to grip at Sammy's arm.

"What are you doing up?" he queried as he swiftly wrapped his arm round Sammy's waist.

"I couldn't find you or Bobby." The youngest Winchester said quietly.

"Come on, back to bed for you, wobble boy."

Sam's lips quirked up in a small grin, as he let Dean bodily move him toward the bed.

"Bobby just left." Dean said, easing his brother's gangly limbs down against the mattress.

"You should've woken me."

"And face the wrath of Bobby Singer…no thank you." Dean grinned.

He shoved his brother's legs beneath the blankets, then, tugged the covers up to against his chest.

"How are your hands?"

"They feel okay." Sam said. He held his bandaged hands up for Dean to see.

Dean drew in a slow breath. _It was now or never. _ He slid down on the opposite bed, hands clutching tightly at his knee caps through his faded blue jeans. He looked intently across at Sam.

"So, how you doing - otherwise?"

Sam looked curiously at his older brother.

"Otherwise?"

"You know, four months without your big brother here to take care of you?" Dean said as he frowned slightly, but continued to gaze at his little brother.

Sam cleared his throat, a sudden knot sitting there. He looked down at the blanket, eyes fixated on a wayward thread._ If he was honest, he was an emotional train wreck_ . He knew he needed to talk to Dean, to deal with all his memories, his fears, but it was so hard. It was much easier to ignore it all, than to struggle to find the right words to say.

Dean sat patiently, watching Sam, knowing his brother was thinking, mulling over his next words.

"'Kay," Sam mumbled.

"Sammy, you are not okay."

Sam gazed critically at his brother.

"But, neither am I." Dean quickly spoke up.

Sam's head rose to gawk at Dean. _Did his brother just admit he wasn't okay_ ?

"You're not okay?" Sam's voice quivered in a deep timber as he questioned Dean's words.

"No Sam, but I'm better than you. I spent four months in hell, of which I don't remember jack shit, except these vague nightmares of screaming, crying, and yelling – crazy ass stuff." Dean clipped out angrily. He licked his dry lips, trying to regain control of his simmering emotions. "You, you had it rougher than me, little brother, you remember it all."

They sat in silence, Dean waiting to see if Sam would respond. _He had put it out there, hoping his brother would talk, confide, and let some of his burden go. _

The younger hunter's gauzed fingers twiddled with the thread; breathe hitching in his throat.

"Sam, look at me." Dean demanded.

Sam's bright eyes rose, his face slowly tilting to look at Dean.

"Four months, bro, that's a long time." Dean said sadly.

Sam's head nodded up and down silently, his lower lip trembling as tears pooled beneath his lids. He blinked quickly, and stared wide hazel orbs at his big brother, his voice, a soft, almost undetectable, whisper.

"I never felt so…alone, not even when I was at Stanford. At least then, I knew, in the back of my mind -You and Dad ...you guys were still there. A phone call away." The younger man's voice stuttered as he tried to stay in control.

"I'm sorry Sammy, sorry that you had to go through that. That you had to be all by yourself. I wish I could take those memories away for you."

Sam hiccupped, the tears weaving a slow path down his pale cheeks.

Dean stood abruptly, easing himself over to sit on the same bed as Sam. He pulled the kid against him. _Boy, two chick flicks in two days, must be a record. _

"It sounds like hell on earth, Sammy."

Dean held his brother tightly, as light shudders racked his sobbing form.

Sam talked for a long time, voice hitching on the words. He quietly explained the endless days and weeks he roamed the countryside, no direction, no goals, just hunting anything to stop from thinking about his brother. He heaved with emotion as he told the story of watching his Dean die, the blood pooling around his brother dismembered body. He cried when he told how it felt to stand by and do nothing while the hellhounds took Dean's life. He shook visibly as he explained why he buried Dean, instead of burning his brother's body. Hot tears soaked into Dean's shirt as Sam detailed his deep desire to pull his brother back from hell, at any and all costs.

And through it all, Dean hung on tightly, listening and rocking his tormented little brother. His insides ached for Sammy. He murmured soft reassurances against the chestnut hair, praying to God, that he could take the nightmare away.

Eventually, Sam gave in to exhaustion, the emotional wave crested and slowly ebbed away. He fell tiredly against his brother, body succumbing to a deep and restful sleep.

Dean shifted up against the headboard, hands tugging his sleeping brother with him.

"Dean…" Long fingers immediately clutched at Dean's shirt.

"Sleep, Sammy," a comforing voice said.

Dean blinked back his own wayward tears as he felt Sam slump back against him as he drifted once again to sleep. _He wasn't letting go just yet._ _Sammy needed him._

His own thoughts assaulted him, and he stifled a tiny gasp. _Honestly, his memories of hell scared the crap out of him. _

He held on tighter to Sam.

He knew it would take a long time for his kid brother to recover, and probably even longer for him; but they would get through this, like always - together.

He smiled as he ran fingers through his little brother's hair. _He was back, right where he was supposed to be. _

**THE END!**

11


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